


Need a Hand?

by kinneyb



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 12:07:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19356736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: queliot with the prompt "I had to be your fake boyfriend because that creep was hitting on you and it was making you uncomfortable"--“Hey,” the voice said. Unlike Mr. Creep, it wasn’t a purr or anything equally as unsettling, but it still founded familiar. Just the edge of flirty.Quentin was so fucking confused.Looking up, he caught eyes with another stranger. The guy was fucking gorgeous and smiled down at Quentin easily.





	Need a Hand?

**Author's Note:**

> ★ please follow me on twitter @ queermight & check out my pinned tweet! ★

“No,” Quentin said, narrowing his eyes.

The man - the stranger, frankly - didn’t seem deterred. If anything, he looked more content bothering Quentin after hearing his no. Like maybe if he just kept trying, he could eventually wear him down.

Creep. Scum. _Creepy scum_.

“Come on,” the man continued, smirking. “I could show you a good time,” he purred, leaning in way too close for comfort.

Quentin bristled, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. What was with men and not taking no for an answer?

It was probably seven or eight at night and all Quentin wanted to do was go home after a long studying session at Starbucks, the one thing even a magical school like Brakebills was sadly lacking.

“Listen,” he started, stepping back, “I - I said I wasn’t interested.”

He hated the way his voice trembled, like he was scared or something. He wasn’t, really. Just really, really fucking annoyed. Traitor, he thought idly.

Shaking his head, he tried to walk around the guy, but he stopped him with a hand on his arm. He shivered, yanking his arm away and glaring openly.

Seriously, _fuck_ this guy.

“But you’re so hot,” the guy mumbled, and Quentin was beyond shocked when the guy had the nerve to drop his hand low on his back, nearly groping his ass.

He knew he shouldn’t use magic, risk exposing it over average pervert but Jesus fucking Christ. The thought of lighting the guy’s hair on fire was so tempting.

And rudely interrupted when he felt another hand settling high on his back between his shoulder blades. He assumed it was just the other guy’s hand at first, but a new voice confirmed nope, that wasn’t it.

“Hey,” the voice said. Unlike Mr. Creep, it wasn’t a purr or anything equally as unsettling, but it still founded familiar. Just the edge of flirty.

Quentin was so fucking confused.

Looking up, he caught eyes with another stranger. The guy was fucking gorgeous and smiled down at Quentin easily.

Then, he lifted one eyebrow in silent question and _oh_. Oh, fuck. Quentin understood now. Pressing up against the newcomer’s side, he skillfully got as far away from Mr. Creep as possible, who was slowly looking more and more pissed off.

“Who the fuck are you?” he barked at the newcomer, narrowing his eyes.

The man grinned and tilted his head, touching Quentin’s shoulder lightly. “I’m this guy’s boyfriend, you fucking asshole.”

His touch didn’t make Quentin nearly as uncomfortable as Mr. Creep’s did. Actually, he weirdly liked it.

Quentin smiled up at his savior and it was genuine, dripping with thankfulness, but then - -

He saw Mr. Creep’s fist flying in the air and before he could react (he was actually shocked, okay? he didn’t think Mr. Creep was creepy and violent) his fist had collided with the other man’s face.

The guy cursed loudly and cupped his jaw, stepping away. Quentin fumed quietly and decided a little magic was called for.

Curling his fingers, Mr. Creep’s nose started to gush blood without even having to be touched. His nice white shirt was definitely ruined.

“What the fuck?” he said.

But he didn’t leave just yet. Dumb guy.

“No,” Mr. Savior straightened his shoulders and delivered a punch right back, fist connecting with Mr. Creep’s nose. The air echoed with a terrible cracking noise that made Quentin both shiver and celebrate; fucker deserved it.

Gasping in pain, Mr. Creep finally seemed to get with the program. He glared at them both as he covered his nose and ran off.

“Fuck you!” they both yelled at the same time, resulting in them both breaking out in laughter once he was out of sight.

Quentin rubbed his eyes, both from the tears of a good laugh and just general tiredness.

“So.” Looking up, he smiled a bit sheepishly.

The guy smiled back. Somehow, he seemed so confident - the awkwardness in the air didn’t even seem to touch him. Quentin was kind of jealous.

“I’m sorry for touching you without your permission,” the guy said, tilting his head. “I just wanted to help and it was kind of instinctual.”

Quentin blinked once, surprised. “Oh, no,” he laughed lightly, rubbing his hands together. “It’s fine. Thanks. For helping, I mean.”

The guy sighed and turned away. “Have a good night.”

Oh. Right. In the end, they were still only strangers. But - -

Quentin scrambled to grab his arm. “Hey.”

The guy smiled lightly, eyes sparkling with amusement, as he turned back to him. He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Quentin realized suddenly he hadn’t thought this far ahead. He had no clue what to do. “Just, uh - I was hoping I could like - properly thank you,” he blurted, face warming.

The guy’s expression softened. “You don’t have to do that,” he replied gently.

Quentin chewed on his bottom lip and stared up at him, unblinking. “I know.”

“Okay,” the guy agreed easily. “How do you want to do that?”

Quentin licked his lips and, after some thought, pulled his phone out of his pocket. He realized he was sweaty - embarrassing - and had a bit of trouble unlocking it.

Once he was in, he pulled up the option to add a new contact.

He didn’t even need to ask, the guy just smiled and said, “Eliot,” then listed off his number.

“So what were you thinking?” he asked.

Quentin smiled sheepishly. “Dinner?”

The guy - Eliot - beamed at that, like it was truly something special. Quentin’s stomach did a flip. “That sounds wonderful, uh.”

Quentin typed him a quick message, and the guy fished his phone out of his coat. He barely glanced at the screen before he focused his attention back solely on Quentin, eyes sparkling.

“That sounds wonderful, _Quentin_.”


End file.
